


Obama Aftercare

by Cavity



Category: One Direction (Band), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM, Handcuffs, M/M, Riding Crops, Romance, Top!Harry, Whipping, bottom!obama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:39:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4312527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cavity/pseuds/Cavity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When 1D gets invited to play at the white house, the fates of two unlikely lovers intertwine amidst riding crops and passionate lovemaking, and Harry Styles quickly realizes that the only direction he wants to go is straight into the president's heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obama Aftercare

Harry was dressed to the nines, his usually unruly hair slicked back for the momentous occasion. One Direction had been invited to play at the white house in honor of the president's daughter's birthday. Harry had never met the president, but he'd seen the pictures. Well. If he was being honest, he looked at them quite often, when the rest of the band was out having a drink. And, guiltily, he locked himself up in his bedroom with a box of tissues and some lotion. That smile. Those eyes. It was enough to send a thrill down his spine. 

The rest of the band was vocal in their excitement, but Harry was more grave. Their private concert had gone swimmingly, but during the concert, he'd met the president's eyes. Every other Obama was smiling and clapping their hands to the beat, but the president was not. The look on his face was intense, like looking directly into a fluorescent light bulb. The tension between them was palpable, but Harry just looked away and tried not to let it faze him as they played through the rest of the concert. They had been invited to dinner with the family afterwards, and the prospect of being so close to the president was daunting in the extreme. And yet, it was all he wanted. 

When they arrived in the white house dining room, Obama's girls were eager to meet with him, but as he spoke with them he had eyes for only one person, and his gaze was just as fixed. If Michelle noticed, she paid it no mind. Once they were seated, Harry found himself right next to the president, close enough almost to reach out and touch him, as he'd imagined doing so many times. 

And that was when he felt Obama's hand trailing up the inside of his thigh. They exchanged a shocked glance, which quickly turned to desire. Obama thanked them all graciously for dinner, but when the rest of the band left, Harry insisted he would catch a cab home. The President's gaze was boring into his back. And then it was just the two of them and the NSA-- alone in the large private dining room.

Harry couldn't be certain which one of them made the first advance, but his hands were on the president's arse before he could register what was happening. He raked his fingers through the greying hair as their mouths met in a flurry of passion.

"...Barack." Harry murmured, eyes half lidded in lust. "I've wanted this for so long." 

Obama just kissed him again and nodded. "Come with me." he said. "We can't use the bedroom because Michelle is a light sleeper... but I know another place." he whispered against the shell of Harry's ear. 

He shivered. "Alright." he agreed, and allowed himself to be led down a long corridor into progressively darker and darker portions of the white house. They went down a long staircase and Obama unhinged a thick door. 

"Where are we?" Harry asked in a mixture of fear and awe.

"The presidential sex dungeon." Obama said, flicking on a switch that illuminated the room. 

There was red as far as the eye could see, and what must have been every manner of sex toy that human kind had ever created. Harry couldn't wait any longer, he threw the president down against the bed with the entire force of his body weight, pinning him there as he tore off his expensive suit. The president gasped under him, and barely seemed to register Harry locking his wrists into hand cuffs above his head.

"You've been a very bad president," Harry whispered seductively, trailing a palm over the president's bare chest.

"And now you're going to have to be impunished." he told him, grabbing a riding crop from the wall beside him. 

Obama writhed in anticipation. The first strike drew a cry from his lips, but it quickly dissolved into a moan as Harry hit him again and again, staining his gorgeous chocolate skin a painful, swollen red. The president was panting under him, and he couldn't take it anymore, his cock strained painfully against his pants. He descended upon him like a bird of prey. 

When they were finished, both spent and tired in each other's arms, Harry delicately pressed his lips against each and every welt he'd caused. "I love you, Barack." he whispered quietly, trailing a hand along the chiseled curve of his jawline and then moving to trace his shapely lips. Barack laughed, the sound deep and resonant, and he kissed his fingers, carding a hand through Harry's mussed hair as he brought his head to lay on his chest. "I love you too, Harry Styles."


End file.
